


Man At C&A

by Basmathgirl



Series: From July to AUgust [9]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Private Detective(s), F/M, Photography, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: John Smith is on a job, undercover as a fashion model while investigating the disappearance of his client’s brother. His job would be miles easier if Donna Noble would leave him the hell alone!
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Donna Noble
Series: From July to AUgust [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820155
Comments: 68
Kudos: 34
Collections: AUgust 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** progress is slow on my other fic, so I'm playing with a different AU.  
>  **A/N2:** I was inspired by this manip created by [satiaentreri](https://satiaentreri.tumblr.com/post/189940192293/if-we-had-seen-more-times-of-our-favorite-demon) on tumblr.  
> 
> 
> [](http://satiaentreri.tumblr.com)  
> [](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7dea469b29584056607291d858cbf009/b7b3c532da2cb2d8-62/s540x810/ef0f115807fac91606499a949ddc216183efb6ac.jpg)  
>   
> 

When Donna Noble had been told by the temping agency that her next assignment was for a fashion photographer, she had immediately thought she would be knee-deep in designer handbags or footwear. Bring it on! Especially if it meant getting freebies. 

Okay, the freebies had been her paramount thought, let’s be honest here. She had visualised working for someone like Miranda in “The Devil Wears Prada”, with all the available accessories. A bitchy boss would be a doddle since it they weren’t exactly thin on the ground. 

Fortunately, Daniel Masterson was a sweetheart compared to most of the temporary bosses she had endured. Being his PA was easy as long as you were professional and efficient. Qualities his photographic assistant often had difficulties with. 

In fact, the little weasel was demonstrating his underwhelming qualifications that day by not being well, thus forcing her to help out. Now if it’d been the bags and shoes she had previously envisioned, she would not have complained much. But Daniel Masterson was a fashion photographer who worked with real, life models of the people kind. 

Over the past couple of weeks, she had dealt with several of these models. They may be known as ‘the beautiful people’ but in her experience they were, in fact, whiny brats. Since when had she become a slave to someone who wouldn’t, couldn’t do up their own buttons, or pick up a flipping drink? And that was before they made remarks within her hearing about her larger size. In relating her tales to her family at night she had, to her former disgust, referred to them as ‘the Skinnies’. 

To add to her usual disgust, she had found out that morning that the normal photography assistant wasn’t feeling well, so she’d been commandeered into helping out with dressing the models. Ugh! Daniel could smile at her all he wanted; it did not endear her to the task. Could this job get any worse? 

At eleven o’clock because, god forbid that they actually got up at a normal time, the models arrived for the photoshoot. Daniel bounced about in excitement, ready to get on with his creative day. But Donna’s interest perked up a little bit when it emerged that todays fashion models were all males. 

Well, that certainly made a pleasant change. No doubt they were too young for her, as breakable as twigs, and probably on the other bus, but they definitely gave her something to look at. She ticked off each model on the photoshoot sheet for the prominent men’s magazine on her clipboard. 

There was one name unaccounted for. Oh. She turned to ask someone if they knew where he’d got to, when the door opened and a tall, slim man sauntered in unapologetically. Her gaze swept upwards, from his bare feet, across his cream linen suit, to land on his long hair. Long, luxurious, ginger hair. She’d never seen anything like him before and the effect was stunning. 

“Are you John Smith, by any chance?” she asked him as he ignored her to join the other models. 

“Of course,” he replied, glaring at her for not knowing. She was of little consequence to him, and he turned his attention to the others and the rack of clothing before them. 

So Donna stepped into his path, determined to get his attention. “Excuse me, but I have the information you need,” she pointed out. To her discomfort, he was already stripping off his clothing to reveal a nicely toned body. And why was she so enchanted by him flipping his hair about? She mentally shook herself for being so stupid; and remembered there was a detail that needed ironing out. “It says here,” she said, pointing to her clipboard, “that there is a slight discrepancy. Can I talk to you in private about it?”

“You can talk here,” he answered dispassionately as he lowered his trousers, revealing tight white pants that gave her a very pleasing view of his backside. Standing up again, he asked, “What did you want to know?”

Giving a tiny cough to clear her suddenly constricted throat, she replied in a much quieter voice, “Your contact details give the name of a company. When I double checked who that is, it turns out that they are a detective agency. Is that right? Do you want us to pay you via a detective agency?”

He moved closer to answer, giving her an unrequested waft of his expensive aftershave as he did so. Wow, did he smell nice, she thought. Then his warm amber eyes bore into her, his mouth set in a tight line to denote his conceit. “Just pay who it says on the paper and stop wasting my time.” 

“But...” she tried again to question this in case it was an error.

“No buts. Do your job, and I’ll do mine. I don’t have time to deal with some bint who can’t read properly,” he growled. 

Of all the cheek! “Rightio,” she said, adding a little symbol to her paperwork over his name. John Smith was officially marked as a prat. “I’ll add some charm lessons to your Christmas list, and a pig’s trough for your lunch to go with your sexism.” 

“Why you-!” he fumed, ready to give her a mouthful of abuse. “Do you have any idea who I am?!”

“Yes. You’re a man stood in his underpants, waiting for me to dress him. Like a baby,” she mocked. 

“I could get you fired for this!” he threatened, but Daniel called across to them at that precise moment.

“Everything alright over there? Hurry up John. We need you in the tweed jacket within the next thirty seconds.”

With his nostrils flaring, John glared at her as he requested, “The tweed outfit, if you please.”

Knowing she had sufficiently got to him, she silently complied by handing over the relevant shirt before passing the trousers and jacket.


	2. Chapter 2

Donna was starving! Working through your lunch certainly did things to you, no matter how attractive the scenery was. They all seemed to be surviving on sticks of celery or carrot, and mystery substances in little pots that looked like the brush water after a toddler has had a painting session. Whatever it was, they dipped their vegetables into it, when they actually did eat, but they didn’t look keen. In light of that, it felt criminal to eat normal, decent food in front of them all. Food that might contain butter, protein, or that horror of horrors, carbs.

From behind the clothing rack, she surreptitiously tried to scoff her sandwich whilst cataloguing the used outfits, in preparation for returning them to the relevant fashion houses at the end of the day. Except her eyes kept fluttering away from her task and led her to gaze at John Smith from afar.

Let’s be honest, before that day she had never heard of him. He was just a name on a list. But after meeting him in person, for some reason she was keen to find out more. The question of why, continually berated her. 

Men don’t bother to deliberately talk to women they don’t want to have sex with. It was a well-known fact. And clearly John was not sexually attracted to her, judging by the way he had both spoken to her and stayed determined to ignore her unless it was necessary. Oh well, she could live with that. After all, it wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence. 

Yet again her eyes wandered to where he was, talking quietly with Daniel; John was looking very serious as he did so, and Daniel shook his head. It wasn’t until the pair of them glanced back at her that she even contemplated the notion they were talking about her. 

Now, she was certain. 

“Did you want me?” she challenged. 

The two men shared a look and then John sauntered nearer. Here it comes, she thought, round two, so she applied her sweetest smile to her face in order to greet him.

“Yes,” he quietly said. “Apparently, I need to say ‘sorry’.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” she wondered, not believing any sincerity he might display. The semantics were all wrong, for a start. “Here’s a little tip for you: a ‘sorry’ is genuine if you actually are sorry, otherwise it ain’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

But it wasn’t written down, he thought with a frown, until he realised exactly what she meant. “That is for you to judge,” he tightly replied. 

This situation could easily go nowhere or end up as another slanging match, she thought. They needed to start afresh. “How about we wait until the end of the photoshoot today,” she proposed, “and if you still want to apologise to me, we will try this again.”

“Very well,” he agreed, feeling rather confused. Had he apologised or not? He couldn’t quite make it out. But it would seem that he was being made to attempt this again at another time. “It would be handy if I could talk to you later.”

“I know!” she trilled, deliberately misunderstanding him. “Isn’t it marvellous how we can communicate that way. Talking is brilliant. You open your mouth, words come out, and people understand what you mean, most of the time. Utterly amazing.”

Anger flared in him. All he wanted was some info, not her comedy act. “Are you always this sarcastic?” he near spat.

“Nah,” she said, turning away to give her attention to her clipboard. “I’ve been practising.”

What! And then a laugh bubbled up through him, making him want to roar with laughter. Yet he had to hide it. Dampen it down to keep up appearances. “Okay,” he feebly answered and then walked away as quickly as he could without hurrying. 

Well, that went well, she thought, and quietly hummed to herself. No insult and no shouting. Things were on the up. Perhaps she’d manage to crack a decent smile out of him before the day was done? 

No, she dismissed that idea. It was too ambitious. She knew it always took much longer than that when the bloke was anti. Anti-her, anti-women, anti-job, it didn’t matter what they were anti, it all turned out the same. 

She didn’t talk to him again until the shoot was over for the day and the models were collecting their belongings to go home. Daniel was happily perusing his taken shots whilst the photographic assistant hastened to pack the equipment safely away. Leaving Daniel in his thoughtful mood, she returned to collecting the final items of clothing from the models.

Taking the last remaining designer shirt from John, she resisted touching his hair as she enquired, “While I think to ask, I’ve been wondering about your feet. Do you actually walk about in the street like that, without shoes?”

“I left them by the front door. I hate wearing shoes indoors,” he testily supplied. “Why do people keep asking me about them?”

“Probably because it flipping hurts to walk on the pavement barefoot,” she reasoned. “And there’s always some berk who has to accidentally step on your toes as he rushes to catch his train or bus.”

“Had a few of those,” he admitted, showing almost a hint of a smile. “Seeing as I’m here, I still need to speak to you. Alone. Can we go somewhere private?”

Shocked, she asked, “Exactly how private were you thinking? Because I’m not having any of _that_ nonsense.” 

Anger flared behind his eyes. “I meant in a professional capacity. Good God. Why would I even…?” Oops! He’d almost thrown out another insult. Not a good idea when you want information. 

She glared at him. “Why would you what?” she goaded him to finish his sentence. “Do you know what? You have all the style and grace of a fart, at times.”

“What? Don’t go,” he complained as she turned tail and strode away. “I genuinely need to talk to you.”

“Then you had better come up with an improved way to ask me,” she cried over her shoulder, “because so far, I couldn’t give a rat’s what you want.”

“Bugger,” he mumbled to himself. His investigation was not going to plan.


	3. Chapter 3

She was just about to leave for the evening when Donna’s phone rang. “Hello? Oh hello, Veena. What’s the problem?... Yes, that should be okay... Meet you there in about fifteen minutes. Bye!”

After carefully pocketing her phone, her mind was on the possible scenarios Veena would present her with when they met. To be honest, Veena had been rather cautious with information. Obviously, she needed Donna to be a sympathetic listening ear, but was it going to be a general grumble about her workplace, or the revelation that her boyfriend was cheating on her. It would be surprising in the least if it was the latter. The bloke was a bit creepy, if you asked her. Not that anyone would. 

Anyway, she turned to call out a goodbye to Daniel was taken aback by the fact John was still talking to him. Didn’t the bloke ever go home? “See you tomorrow!” she cried with a cheery wave.

“Bye Donna!” Daniel congenially yelled back. 

John merely glared. Well, sod him, she thought. It took hardly any effect to be polite but obviously even that was too much where she was concerned. How could she make a dig at him? Hmm.

Then she spotted his shoes by the door. If she took them to him, he’d have to say something. Almost the law; and the ultimate rude gesture if he didn’t so, she picked up the shoes and carried them back into the studio. “I found these and thought you might need them, seeing as the stairs are a bit dodgy,” she cheerily informed him, placing them on the carpet like an offering. She then stood in silence, waiting for his response. 

It took him a second and then an “Oh” exploded out of him. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Was he actually blushing? she wondered. No. couldn’t be. 

Except he was. 

Well I never… She grinned disarmingly. “You’re welcome. Bye.” 

Watching her practically skip away from them, Daniel was intrigued. “Do you have a problem with Donna?”

“No,” John hastily answered. “It’s fine.”

But Daniel wasn’t convinced. “If you’re going to get any information, you’ll have to actually talk to her eventually,” he advised, “instead of just staring at her.” 

“I’m not… I don’t…,” John denied. “I just…” Huffing, he rubbed a hand through his hair. 

“Find her a bit intimidating?” Daniel suggested with a chuckle. “She’s very efficient but also easy to talk to, I assure you.”

Taking a deep breath, John declared, “Maybe I’ll try again. Soon.” He put his shoes and strode out into the evening air.

As he walked, John chastised himself for being affected by Donna’s sarcastic remarks. This wasn’t a competition, after all. It shouldn’t take any time at all to ask his questions. No time at all. If he could actually get the questions out. But so far, each time he’d opened his mouth to ask, she had countered his enquiries with one of her own. It was all extremely distracting! 

Talking of distractions, he was sure he had seen her walking further on, up the pavement, near the next parade of shops. He sped up, striding confidently along until he saw the woman in question more clearly.

Ah yes. It was her! He stepped into a doorway to observe the situation. After looking around, she had tapped a message into her phone, glanced at a shop door, and then slowly walked in. Looking up, he could clearly see the name of the establishment, although the livery was a dead giveaway. The shop of choice was a Starbucks, and she had joined the queue inside. 

When he eventually entered the coffee shop, Donna was sat with her back to the door, animatedly talking with another woman. Okay, he could wait, he decided, so he bought a drink and sat in the furthest corner from her, watching. 

Veena came up for breath after berating the latest behaviour of her boyfriend, took a sip of her coffee and whispered to Donna, “Don’t look now but there’s a gorgeous bloke over there looking at us.”

“Where?” Donna inevitably asked.

Talking over her mug, Veena replied, “Right near the counter. The one with the long ginger hair.”

With as much grace as she could manage, Donna swept her gaze over the Starbuck patrons as though she were seeking the toilets before telling her friend, “Oh, that’s just John.”

“Just John?” Veena challenged. “You can’t dismiss him like that without more information.”

Sighing, Donna supplied, “He’s a fashion model who has been working for Daniel, the photographer I’ve been placed with recently. Let’s just say that he is your stereotypical self-obsessed walking clotheshorse. He’s probably trying to work out how he can escape from here before I see him and ask about his boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Veena despondently gasped. “Not available then?”

“Even if he was so inclined, you’ve got a boyfriend already,” Donna pointed out. 

“Yes, but a girl can look,” Veena maintained, and took another sip of her drink. “And it pays to have backup options if my suspicions are true.” 

“I know the name and address of a detective agency if you need proof either way,” Donna offered, “but I doubt he is playing away. He’d be mad to.”

“That’s what I told him,” Veena responded. As if on cue, her phone pinged a notification. “It’s him,” she warmly informed Donna as she read the message. “Wants to take me out to dinner. Says to go meet him right away.”

“Then you’d better go,” Donna advised. “Make the most of this sudden romantic mood.”

“I will.” Veena stood up to leave and grabbed her jacket to put on. “Thanks for listening. I’ll let you know how things go. Bye then.”

“Bye!” Donna said as she hugged her friend, and then considered her possibilities as Veena left. 

Should she go and confront John? Yeah. Why not? At least she would find out what the heck he’d been itching to ask all day. Getting up out of her seat again, she collected her belongings and walked as though she were using the facilities. Instead, she veered off at the last moment and placed herself in front of John. 

His head jerked up as she playfully enquired, “Hello John. Fancy seeing you here. I suppose you’re waiting for your partner. I hope you haven’t been following me.” 

“Erm… No, I… That is, I didn’t… There’s no partner but nevertheless,” he stammered, but he went silent when she sat down the seat beside him.

“That doesn’t sound fishy at all,” she remarked. “Totally innocent.” All he managed was a nod, so she continued to talk. “I’m going to assume that you came in here to ask me your question. The one you failed to ask earlier, so what did you want to know?”

Now caught out, he realised it was his opportunity to find out the answer. “Yes, I did want to ask you something. I’m trying to find Lance Bennett. Do you know where he is or what has happened to him?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** good grief! There's more of it!!

The words _‘Lance Bennett’_ and _‘what has happened to him?’_ rang like alarm bells in a horror film in Donna’s head. She could feel her heartrate speed up as the implications hit her.

Her face went slack. “Pardon! Did you say Lance Bennett?”

“This Lance Bennett,” John stated, bringing out a small photo from his jacket pocket and sliding it towards her. “Do you know him?”

Taking the photo, she briefly glanced at it, knowing that the image would be familiar and biting back on her reaction. “Yes, I knew him,” she quietly confirmed, handing it carefully it back, “long ago. Why are you looking for him?”

John pocketed the photo as he considered his words. “His brother is looking for Lance. Apparently, he has gone missing.”

“Missing,” Donna gasped in horror. “How long ago?”

“A couple of days. Maybe a week.”

She shook her head, thinking of the agony Lance’s poor family were going through. “No idea where he is. Sorry.”

John eyed her suspiciously. “You don’t sound overly surprised **I’m** looking for him.”

Smirking in relief, she answered, “Well, it did say to pay your wages to a detective agency on your paperwork. It’s not exactly a huge leap to assume what you do with the rest of your time when you’re done modelling is a spot of investigating.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded. He pointed a manicured fingernail at the jacket pocket where the photo lay. “Why did you stop seeing Lance?”

Taking a deep breath for courage, she confessed, “Because he dumped me unceremoniously.”

“Oh, so you ended up not being the best of friends,” he understated.

“You could say that,” she replied with a shrug, “considering he told me I was too boring and then went off with some exotic foreign bird.” 

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Can’t say I’m proud of it, but I refuse to be ashamed.”

“Good for you,” he murmured. “Right. I’d better be off.”

She stopped him rising from his seat by placing a hand on his forearm. “About Lance. I’ll ask around, if you like. Somebody’s bound to have seen him. They’ve just been polite by not telling me.” 

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” With a huge, sunny smile, he left her sitting there, thinking. 

The following day was the last of that particular male magazine photoshoot and wasn’t expected to last until the evening. Nevertheless, John turned up much earlier than he previously had, feeling in quite a good mood. 

“Here he is. Mr November,” Donna cheekily greeted him. “Or would October for Halloween be more appropriate?”

To her delight, he laughed. “As long as I can be your horror story, that’s fine with me.” 

He was surprised when she later sidled up to him, as he began changing out of his clothes, to whisper, “About that info you wanted. I found out where he was last. Here.” With that, she pushed a folded-up piece of paper into his hands. 

Too curious not to wait, he unfolded it and saw the printout of a company that attended bridal shows, and the dates of the next few events they would be at. His face lit up. “Donna, you are brilliant!”

“I have my moments,” she modestly replied, and then suddenly looked away.

What was the matter with her? he wondered. Oh, he realised. He had undone his trousers and was about to remove them. Hmm. Nodding his head, it was nice to know some people still respected his privacy. “One of those dates for the bridal shows is this weekend. Tomorrow, in fact,” he carefully worded his request. 

“I had noticed that,” she admitted, still politely staring in the opposite direction.

“Do you fancy going with me?” Her head whipped round to gaze at him, so he amended the offer. “To keep me company in such an alien place. Seeing as you know him personally, it might help to pick him out if he’s in disguise,” he tried. “It would be a nice trip out for the day. Unless you already have plans?”

“No, no plans,” she answered, somewhat stunned by the invitation. “Fortunately, I love wedding fayres. What time were you thinking of leaving?”

“Early,” he replied. 

“Alright,” she accepted. “Where shall we meet?”

“I’ll come and pick you up from your house,” he stated. “And dress warm, with layers,” he added after some moments’ thought.

“Okay.” No, not ominous at all, she decided. 

He turned up bright and early outside her house the following morning to find her waiting patiently on the pavement. His arrival was nothing but triumphant. 

“You never said you had a motorbike!” she exclaimed in glee as soon as she could tell him.

The only thing immediately recognisable about him was his wide grin but she would have known that slim build anywhere. Every item of his attire was black, mainly black leather. She watched in awe as he removed his helmet and shook out his long auburn hair. Blimey! And she thought that effect only worked for women in films. He looked gorgeous! Judging by his grin, he knew it too. 

“Didn’t I tell you?” he teased. Giving the bike below him a fond pat, he added, “I’ve had her a while now.” 

It was certainly a beast of a machine, but somehow it suited him to a tee. Funnily enough, leaning back on his bike meant his eyes briefly glanced downwards, taking in Donna’s long legs clad in skinny jeans in the process, and he appreciated the view. 

“Hop on. I’ve got your helmet ready,” he said as he held out one matching his own. “Ever been on a motorbike before?”

“Only the once,” she supplied as she prepared herself to clamber on behind him and hold on tight, with her arms wrapped around his slim waist. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

He reached down to slightly loosen her grip. “Give me room to breathe and I’ll be alright.”

“Are you alright now?” she sought to find out.

“Very,” he agreed before starting the engine, giving out a throaty roar as they moved off. 

Conversation was impossible as they sped along but John was glad, in a way. It allowed him to enjoy the touch of another human being for a change, even if they were clinging on to him for grim death. Well, his passenger would definitely be badly injured if she fell off, and her breath felt comforting as it occasionally brushed across the back of his neck. What he hadn’t anticipated was how he would feel once they arrived in the car park of the wedding fayre. 

The unexpected bit happened once Donna climbed off the bike. She went and mimicked him earlier, by lifting off her helmet before shaking out her hair, letting the long ginger tresses sway around her face for a second. The mischievous lure in her eyes, and the seductive smile on her lips, took all coherent thought out of his head and let desire in.

“It’s a bit posh here, don’t you think,” she commented, looking at the nearby grand building. It was an impressive country manor in extensive grounds. When he didn’t respond as she’d expected him to, she verbally prodded him with, “Earth to John! I spoke to you just now.”

“Oh. Sorry,” he faintly answered as the dramatic effect the action had on him began to wear off. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

“You’re pathetic,” she grouched, having suspected him of taking the mick out of her, and strode passed him to head for the entrance. 

The main question on his mind as he followed was: why was he suddenly such a pushover for a cheeky grin? Especially one flashed at him by someone like Donna Noble. It was as if the woman had bewitched him and he’d be blowed if she would think her charms had any effect upon his senses. 

_Keep your mind on the job, Smith,_ he chided himself when his gaze accidentally landed on her trim backside again. Fraternising with the ‘help’ wouldn’t do. 

Instead, he busied himself with making sure he held the ticket to their helmets and Donna’s coat they’d dropped off with the venue’s cloakroom attendant.


	5. Chapter 5

“Any sign of him?” John asked as soon as they’d entered the main part of the fayre which was a large hall full of stalls and booths. 

“Give us a chance,” Donna retorted as they sauntered along, dodging around people. “I’ve only just walked in through the door. Knowing Lance, he’d want to pick a prime spot.” Pushing through the crowd, she suddenly turned to grasp John’s arm. “There he is,” she hissed. “Come on.” 

But John let her forge on ahead without him. He hung back to hold up his phone to take photos and any footage that his customer might need. 

As Donna strode forward, she realised that John wasn’t by her side, yet she wasn’t worried. He was bound to catch her up quite soon. Instead, she aimed towards the Racnosa company stand where his quarry, Lance, was currently chatting animatedly to a pretty bride-to-be, a young woman who kept blushing coyly. 

“You’re too young and beautiful to be getting married,” she heard Lance schmooze the woman as he leaned in close to add intimacy.

“I’m old enough,” the woman replied, preening under the compliment. “In ten months’ time I’ll be on my honeymoon.”

“With me?” he joked, gaining another blush. 

She playfully batted at his arm. “No. With my husband, silly!” 

Unfortunately, it was all too familiar for Donna as she stood watching him. The slimy, cheating piece of…. 

Feeling eyes upon him, Lance suddenly turned and caught sight of her. “Donna! Well I never. I didn’t expect to see you here,” he exclaimed. “Hello. It’s good to see you looking so well.”

That was shorthand for ‘fat’ when he backhandedly criticised people, and she’d often heard him use it in the past. “Hello Lance. I thought I’d hang out where the brides are for a while. You seem the same as always.”

The woman looked startled at the frosty exchange, and stayed near Lance’s side, just in case the newcomer was as violent as her ginger stereotype. Feeling her tremble, Lance patted her arm in comfort, silently telling her not to worry. “Are you here helping one of your many taken friends arrange their marriage?” he sarcastically asked Donna. 

“Not exactly,” she had begun to answer, when John suddenly swept up from behind her and grasped her firmly around the waist, giving her a loving squeeze.

“Sorry I lost you for a moment,” he crooned and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Am I forgiven?”

Lance scrunched his face up in utter disgust. “Who’s this?” 

Okay, she expected to get an explanation from him later but for now she’d go with the flow. “John, this is Lance,” she carelessly introduced her ex-boyfriend.

Keeping a possessive arm around Donna, John politely held out a hand towards Lance to shake. “How do you do, Lance. No doubt you’ve heard all about me, knowing my Donna. I’m John, her fiancé.”

My what! In answer, she deliberately patted his cheek with tenderness. “Now, now, I do manage to stop talking about you once in a while.”

He dropped his hand away from a bemused Lance in order to fondly smile at her. “About as often as I don’t talk about you.” And added in a nose rub to the show of affection.

“So, you two are engaged?” Lance managed to ask. “Where’s your ring?” he then accused.

But John easily waved that off. “That’s why we came here, to look for rings and other stuff. Why did you come here?”

“I run this stand and am an integral part of the business,” Lance stated, pointing the banner above him that proclaimed the business he worked for.

Yet John refused to be impressed. “I thought you were working in Human Resources. Not exactly part of the job description, is it?”

“I changed jobs,” Lance testily replied. “I no longer work for H.C Clements but am with Racnosa, a new company that supplies bridal transport with a special personal touch.”

 _No doubt that meant running his clammy hands all over them_ , both John and Donna thought. 

“Not much of a step up,” John noted. “Anyway. We must get on and leave you to whatever it was you were doing,” he retorted with a vague nod towards the younger woman.

Having been brought into the conversation, she risked wondering, “Excuse me. Hi, I’m Linda. You don’t know me. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’m sure I’ve seen you before.”

“You might have done,” John agreed.

“He’s been in magazines,” Donna proudly gushed.

“Well,” John feigned humbleness modestly, “I’ve been in a few, like last month’s GQ magazine.”

“That’s it!” Linda cried in recognition. “There was a three-page spread. You were dressed in a beautiful designer suit. All sort of…” She made a groaning, slightly strangled sound in demonstration. “I love your look. Wish I had hair like that.”

The look of awe on Lance’s face was worth the moment. 

“That was Armani, of course. Thank you,” John genially acknowledged the compliment with a nod and then hugged Donna closer. “Sorry but we have to go. It was nice to meet you both.”

“Bye,” Linda faintly answered, giving a tiny wave. She would later chastise herself for not getting an autograph. 

Whereas Lance merely carried on gawping like a landed fish. “Donna? With him? How?” he could be heard to mumble.


	6. Chapter 6

They had walked aimlessly through the hall, idly stopping to finger fabrics, or smell flowers. But Donna had broken away from John’s lose embrace as soon as they’d lost sight of Lance. After all, she didn’t want John thinking she had taken it all seriously. It would be mortifying if he had.

For his part, John kept a safe, respectful distance from her, answering any casual query thrown his way. In truth, he was worried. Had he overstepped the mark by pretending they were an engaged couple? It had certainly sent Lance reeling, but was it at a cost?

After ten or so minutes of not communicating much, he placed a hand on her lower back to guide her towards the refreshments area. “Tea or coffee?” he offered. 

“I’d love a coffee,” she replied with relief. “And can I have a muffin with it?”

“Of course.” 

With a practised casual smile, he sat her at a table and then went to pay for some drinks. But it was with some trepidation that he joined her, placing her coffee and a chocolate muffin within easy reach of her motionless hands.

“So, I’ve just met Lance Bennett,” he mused to get a response from Donna’s silent form. Hopefully, she would start dishing the dirt.

She sugared her coffee without looking directly at him. “Lucky you,” she griped, and took a sip. “Now you can see why I love him so much.”

The grin he’d been wearing fell. “Do you really love him?” he quietly asked. 

“I thought I did for a while. Soon got over that,” she retorted, “but at least we can confirm he’s still alive for his family.” 

“I’ve been thinking about that,” John cagily noted. “Why is he keeping his whereabouts so secret? Doesn’t this all smell fishy to you?”

“That would be his cologne,” she joked, and bit into her muffin. 

“Donna,” he chastised. “His brother sounded genuinely worried.”

She quickly wiped the crumbs from her mouth. “Well, he would. Most of his family are nice. It’s Lance that’s dodgy.”

“I’d gathered as much,” John agreed. “Which makes me wonder about this Racnosa company he works for. I think we ought to investigate them further.”

“We?” she questioned. “I thought you worked on your own.”

“Well,” he drawled, going coy. He took a gulp of his coffee for courage. “I was rather hoping it’d be me and you.”

“I don’t work for you,” she needlessly pointed out. “I’m only here as a favour.”

“And because you’re nosy.”

“Alright, you got me there,” she admitted, “but there’s only so long I can get away with pretending to be your fiancée.”

“Ah,” he sighed as she sat, pursed lipped, head tilted to the side, as she waited for the explanation. “The thing is, he was insulting you and that made me mad. I couldn’t just stand there and let him get away with it, could I? So, I said we were engaged to get back at him. Anybody would have done it.”

“Would they have done all the touching too?” she wondered.

“In my position, yes,” he maintained. “Why are you annoyed with me?”

“Oooh, I don’t,” she sneered. “Perhaps not having a say in you getting handsy has something to do with it.”

“Most women wouldn’t complain. Anyway, you seemed okay about the engagement part.”

“That bit I could understand,” she snapped. “And I agree that Lance deserved it. If you want to get handsy, maybe we should go back and let that teen bride woman touch you up instead of me.”

“Her name was Linda,” he corrected with an arrogant smirk on his face. “And I’m deeply sorry for doing that. Although… Are you jealous? No. Surely not.”

“No,” she hotly denied. “Why would I be?”

“Exactly,” he agreed. Now feeling more perky, he saucily tilted his head to lay it on her shoulder. Peering up at her face, he stated, “You merely love me.”

“I do not!”

“You smiled!” he crowed. “I saw a smile. That means I’m off the hook.”

She pulled away, causing his head to slip off her body. “You are not. One cheesy smile and you think it’s alright? Not on your nelly, mate!”

“How about I make it up to you?” he proposed. “Tell me what you want. We’ll go and have dinner anywhere that you like.”

“Talk about cruising on your looks,” she complained. “I don’t want you to buy my affection. Friends don’t need to do that sort of thing. Being yourself should be enough.”

It didn’t take long for his arrogant smirk to return as he thought through her words, and he gave her a sideways hug. “That’s really nice of you. And you think I’m pretty.”

“Why would…?” she began to query; and felt the need to put him right. “Look, if I said something as ridiculous as ‘you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen’, you’d go all whatshername.”

“But you still want to say it, don’t you?” he cheekily insisted. 

“Give over, you tart! As if I would.”

“You’d expect me to compliment you in such a way.”

“No I wouldn't.” 

“Okay. You would _love_ me to say such a compliment.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that,” she conceded, “but don’t go putting words in my mouth.” 

“Better than worms.”

Spluttering with laughter, she demanded, “How old are you? Five?”

“Give me a bite of your muffin and I’ll be anything you want,” he playfully retorted. “Anyway, add on three decades and you’re almost there. Old enough to consider retiring from modelling.” 

She watched him swallow down the last pieces of her muffin with gusto, picturing him being alone. “Is that why you do this investigation stuff on the side? Something to do in your old age.”

“Oi! Watch it,” he exclaimed, staring at her. “If I’m old then so are you.”

“Never said I wasn’t. Especially where marriage stuff is concerned,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“You’re not too old to get married,” he protested. 

“Maybe, but I am past it where motherhood is concerned.” 

His eyes went wide. “How can you say that when the average age to start a family these days is about 40?”

“Not in the world I live in, it ain’t.” She drank the last of her coffee. “It might be different in the lofty heights you move about in. That mythical world of fancy clothing, payable school fees and a live-in nanny to bring your child up. Us in the real world can’t afford it and don’t have the energy to cope.” 

In a small voice, he maintained, “I’m only a temporary lodger in that world.” 

“Says you.” 

“Honestly, I come from nothing. It’s allowed me to treat my privilege as a huge holiday.” 

“I bet you’ve bought your mum a villa in Spain too,” she joked. 

His face fell in grief. “Something like that,” he mumbled. 

“Oh John. I’m sorry,” she immediately apologised, reaching over to grasp his hand in comfort. “She must have been the proudest mum ever.” 

“Yes, she was,” he admitted with a slight, revealing sniff. “Right. Time we headed for home and I returned you to your mother.”

She risked asking, “Do you have to?” 

Thankfully, it made him laugh.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I wanted to get on with the investigation and my muse insisted I write the next two chapters instead.

Entering her home, Donna threw her keys down, dumped her bag, and hung up her coat before sauntering into the kitchen. Her mother was in there, putting a tray of something into the oven. 

“How did your date go?” she was greeted with.

She deliberately aimed for the settee and sat down. “What date?” Donna wondered. 

“The date with your young man,” Sylvia huffed as she slammed the oven shut before moving across the room to sit beside her daughter. “Although I can’t say I approve of him carrying you about on the back of a motorbike like that. They’re not safe.”

“Good job I won’t be doing that again then.”

“Why?”

Trying not to roll her eyes, Donna stressed, “Because it wasn’t a date!”

“Looked like a date to me,” Sylvia claimed.

“And how long exactly were you spying on me through the net curtains?”

“Long enough,” Sylvia snarled, having been caught out. “You could hardly miss it after all that noise he made on that bike. You could hear him at the bottom of the road. He was certainly full of himself as he showed off to impress you. And you were all girlish in return.”

The anger level rose in Donna. “Funny but, last time I looked, I actually was a girl.”

“Yes, but you know what I mean.” Sylvia got up to pick up her knitting. “You were like two little lovebirds twittering around each other.”

“What a lovely image,” Donna sneered. “I hope my plumage was up to scratch.”

“Well, you were soon thrusting your body up against him, in front of the neighbours.”

“Mum! You make it sound disgusting. I got on the back of his bike, and that was it. No funny business.”

A happy Sylvia grinned as her needles clacked together. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Where did you go?”

“Nice,” Donna acknowledged her mother’s unfinished knitting by fingering the bottom hem of the wool. “We ended up near Reading. At a wedding fayre.” Sylvia's face immediately lit up in anticipation at this news. “No, don’t start. It was to do with work and not some jumped up elopement plan, before you even ask.”

Sylvia’s face hid a smirk. “You spoil all my fun.”

‘Spoilt my own too,’ she couldn't help thinking. “To think, for a split second you thought you were getting rid of me,” she mocked. “Shame.”

Nothing unusual in that, Sylvia considered. “You know what else would be a crying shame?”

“What?”

“If you don’t make us a nice cup of tea to cheer me up.”

“I’ll get right on to it,” Donna readily promised, and stood to do just that. 

John woke up the following morning to the sound of his phone ringing. He growled, rolled over, and grabbed up his phone. “What do you want?” he gruffly answered.

The voice of his old friend Will caustically chastised him. “There’s no need for that tone! Especially as I’m phoning to congratulate you. Woke up with a hangover after celebrating, have you?”

Sitting up in bed, John raked his fingers through his hair. “Congratulate me? What for? Why would I be celebrating?”

“Don’t go all shy on me. It’s all over Twitter,” Will answered. 

“I’m still none the wiser,” John admitted. “Why are they talking about me on there?”

With a deep sigh, Will informed him, “You were seen out with your fiancée.”

“I haven’t got a fiancée!” John protested. 

“I thought it was odd, you being all lovey-dovey, with a woman of all people, but it’s definitely you.”

“Tell me where I can see this,” John demanded reaching for his iPad. “You know me. Where would I get a fiancée?” And then something finally clicked into his brain. Oh dear! “Bloody Twitter! What do I need to type in?” 

An amused Will spelt out the URL and waited excitedly for the reaction.

To John’s horror, it was as bad as he’d expected. It appeared that Linda, the bride woman, had followed them and taken a photo of him and Donna laughing together. He threw his hand over his mouth as he gazed at the image. Linda announced to the world that he was engaged, and she had seen the evidence. There was a whole conversation about it. What the hell was he going to do? 

“It’s a misunderstanding,” he told his friend, but Will merely laughed at him. 

“Can’t say I envy you having to tell that woman in the photo that she means nothing to you,” Will goaded. “I mean, as if you could ever love someone else enough to marry them.” 

“Oi! I’m capable of loving someone!”

“Maybe, but more than yourself? Don’t think so,” Will continued. “I’ve known you long enough to know you’re a miserable sod at the best of times. You’d soon drive this woman away. Promise you’ll let me know when you’ve done it, and come back to tell me all the gossip.”

“Your concern overwhelms me,” John sarcastically ended the call. “Bye.” 

He then stared at the Twitter image again; and took in a deep breath. 

“Oh shit!”

This needed attending to, he realised, so he dialled the latest number in his contacts.


	8. Chapter 8

Donna took her foot off the muddy spade she had been using and dug deep into her coat pocket to answer her phone. “Hello John. What can I do for you?”

Hearing the wind noise across the microphone, he asked, “Where are you and what are you doing?”

“I’m helping to dig up Gramps’ allotment, if that’s allowed. What are you doing?”

Feeling defensive, he answered, “I’m lying here in bed, like you’re supposed to do, first thing on a Sunday.”

An unwanted mental image of him naked while talking in bed occurred to her. “Look, if this is one of those ‘what are you wearing?’ type of phone calls, you can pack it in right now.”

“No, nothing like that,” he assured her as he stopped an innocent hand trailing his fingertips across his chest. “I’m phoning to ask if you know anything about Twitter.”

“Thinking of setting up an account, are you?”

“Well, no, although it has been suggested in the past.”

“A bit public if you want to be all Secret Squirrel.”

“Exactly. I hear it doesn’t allow for much privacy or personal opinion.” He paused to make his announcement. “Anyway, it hasn’t stopped me being on there in some capacity.”

“What have you done now?” she wondered knowingly. 

“It’s more of a ‘what we’ve done now’, to be honest. That bride who fangirled over me has posted a photo.”

“How bad is it? Will you have to change hairstylist and everything?”

“Donna, this isn’t funny! She’s announced to the world that I’m engaged.”

“What did you expect to happen if you go around saying such things? Of course, people would believe you,” she dismissed. “So what? One minute you’re getting married, the next you’ve broken it off. Happens all the time to celebrities.” 

“This isn’t just anyone,” he insisted, wondering why he was getting so hot under the collar about it. “This is us: you and me. I’ve never been engaged before. Neither real nor imaginary.” 

“Think of it as a new first. Over and done with.” 

He momentarily pulled the phone away from his ear to glare at it. “Why aren’t you angrier about this?”

“For a start, nobody I know would think to look at you on there, and second, it’s all pretend anyway. You started it, remember?”

A far-off male voice at Donna’s end asked, “Is that your new boyfriend you’re arguing with?” 

“He’s not my boyfriend, Gramps,” she denied. “I told you that I went with him yesterday for moral support.” 

“A bloke, going to a wedding thing, ain’t normal unless you’re courting,” Wilf reasoned. 

“Hence me offering the moral support,” she stressed in what was obviously a well-trodden conversational path. “It doesn’t mean we’re involved.” 

“So why are you talking about getting married?” a bewildered Wilf queried. 

“You’re not supposed to be listening in on private conversations,” she snapped. 

“Can hardly avoid it when you’re broadcasting it to all and sundry.”

“Sorry, Gramps. I didn’t mean to bite your head off, but John here seems to have dropped me in it.”

“How’s he done that?”

She took in a breath. “To get rid of someone, he told them I’m his fiancée.”

“A bit daft but that’d normally do it, I suppose. Gone wrong, has it?”

“In a way,” she agreed. “Our photo was taken without us knowing and then posted on Twitter.” She didn’t wait for him to ask. “That’s part of the internet, like Facebook.”

“Oh, right,” the old man gasped in realisation. “And his girlfriend has found out, has she? Or is it a boyfriend? You never know these days. Especially if he’s like that Richard fella you went out with.”

On the other end of the line, John was feeling rather abandoned, among other things. “Tell your grandfather that neither exists in my life,” he insisted. 

“Hang on, I’ve got a three-way conversation going on here,” Donna grouched. “Gramps, he says he hasn’t got anyone like that.” 

“Is it usual for him to have both?” Wilf pondered. 

“No idea,” she admitted. “He’s too busy keeping his secrets.” 

“Oi! I can hear you, you know,” John pointed out. 

“You also know that eavesdroppers never hear good about themselves,” she teased him. “Now, if you’ve finished stressing out over some vague photo nobody’ll look at, I’ll get back to turning over this soil.”

“It’s nothing but sexy talk with you, isn’t it,” he laughed. “Thanks for making me feel better about this. I will have to take you out soon and show my appreciation.” 

“Careful, that’s close to a date,” she warned. “You’re welcome. Take care.” 

“And you. Bye.” Ending the call, he felt a great deal better again. Almost as good as he’d felt the previous day. Perhaps it would be in his best interests to keep in contact with Donna for the foreseeable future, he decided, and laid down in bed to continue his Sunday morning. 

“That fella you were talking to. John, was it?” Wilf asked his granddaughter, giving his nose a comforting touch. “How do you really feel about him?”

She returned her attention back to her spade. “He’s been growing on me, but I doubt I’ll see much more of him.” 

“Why’s that?”

So many reasons for her to choose from. “He’s a successful fashion model with pots of money, I’m just a temp from Chiswick. The two don’t match, let alone meet up much.”

“You’re putting yourself down, sweetheart. This John obviously likes your company if he’s phoning you up out of the blue for your opinion. It’s not only your old Gramps who can see your true worth.”

The urge to kiss him was irresistible, so she gave in, planting one on his weathered cheek. 

“I think we’ve earned ourselves a cup of tea,” he offered. 

As she later sat on an old mat outside her grandfather’s allotment shed, drinking her tea, she thought to scroll through Twitter, and put in John Smith’s name into the search bar. 

“What!” she exclaimed in horror when she saw the incriminating photograph and the number of likes it had obtained. 

After all, she had expected some vague, out of focus, snapshot. What she had found was a candid pose of what looked like established lovers.

“Is that you?” Wilf asked over her shoulder. “It’s a nice picture. All happy like. Who’s that with you?”

“That’s John,” she confirmed. 

“Oh. I see what you mean now. If he is complaining about being mistaken for your fiancé, I'll have his guts for garters!”

“It’s fine, honest it is. He was merely a bit shocked the photo was taken and then posted without our knowledge, that’s all. As I said, he was the one who pretended we were engaged so he’s only got himself to blame for the rest of it.”

“Aren’t you hopping mad?”

“A bit. Alright, a lot, but there’s nothing I can do now except deal with the fallout with dignity.” 

“That’s my girl,” he proudly stated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** write a short story, I told myself; just a couple of hundred words, I said. It won't grow. It'll only take up a day...

To be honest, Donna thought that was the end of it. That nobody had seen the photo of her and John happily smiling at each other as a fake couple, let alone would consider it to be real, so she had dismissed the whole incident from her mind.

Right up until morning tea break at work the following day. 

She had handed out mugs or tea, coffee and several glasses on non-fat water, as well as tortured a few of them by waving the biscuit tin under their noses, when Daniel had surreptitiously mumbled at her, “You work fast.”

His head was bent over his camera lenses, adjusting something or other, so she thought she had misheard him for a moment.

Somewhat shocked, she demanded, “Pardon. What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“The engagement,” he whispered, trying not to be overheard. 

Turning her head slightly, she glanced at the gaggle of female models practicing their poses at the other end of the room. Suddenly it clicked why they’d all been treating her slightly differently. A bit more sneer than usual. 

“Ah. Well, either you’ve got it or you ain’t,” she deliberately trilled.

His eyes went wide in wonder. “But how did you capture him? This lot have tried to get him for years. No one’s even seen John out with someone so they’re all keen to know your secret.”

Leaning close, she mouthed into his ear, “I may kiss, but I never tell.” 

Daniel’s burst of laughter was all she could ever want. “Whatever happens, don’t change, Donna,” he begged. “I’m going to really miss you when you leave.”

“Play your cards right and you could get to keep me too,” she teased, but secretly, she couldn’t wait to get away from the fashion world and return to the normality of general offices. 

Somehow, the place had lost all its shine. And no, she didn’t miss John being there. Not one tiny little bit. She especially didn’t miss his cheesy smiles. Or the way his arrogance made her laugh. 

With a last mouthful of her coffee, she realised that lying to yourself doesn’t always work. 

Much later, when she was finishing for the day, she was going over the contact details of the models for the next photoshoot, and the name of John’s detective agency just happened to jump out at her, like these things do. Feeling somewhat guilty, she looked at where it was on Google maps, and was surprised to find it wasn’t too far away. Near enough to accidentally walk pass, should the urge overtake her. Just to satisfy mere curiosity, she told herself, and nothing more. 

And there was a small retailer’s nearby that she had been dying to try out for quite a while, so it made sense to go and look on the off chance. The off chance of what exactly was not something she was ready to admit to herself yet.

Okay, you can do this, she told herself as she stood outside the newsagent near John’s office. Just an accidental meet up to engineer. Like you do. It wasn’t as though she was officially stalking him.

John sighed and threw his pen down onto the desktop in front of him. How was he going to explain to Bennett that his brother was obviously avoiding the family? The warm, friendly, loving man that had been described to him certainly wasn’t the Lance Bennett he had met in person. Charming in his own way, perhaps, there was something about the man that John hated.

No, it wasn’t jealousy exactly, although he wasn’t fond of the fact Donna had been in love with the bloke, but she was at the root of his loathing. Lance had treated her with utter distain and that made John mad. 

Alright, he himself hadn’t always shown her due respect, he freely admitted that. His caustic side had shown up, with claws out, as soon as he’d set eyes on her. For some reason he felt as though he had to fight for her attention when the natural order of things, so far, had been people falling over themselves to please every little whim that he had. But not Donna; no. She had practically refused to pander to his casual need for validation and, for some reason, that intrigued him. Any friendship she had consequently offered had felt like manna from heaven. 

Plus, she wasn’t bad to look at. Not your conventional beauty, yet there was an air about her confidence that attracted him, nevertheless. Certainly made a change from all those self-obsessed elfin creatures he tended to work with. 

Ah, work. The very thought brought up new hopes. 

His eyes scanned round the small office that remained empty of another living being. Even the potted cactus on his windowsill was a façade. Plastic, but a good fake. He’d chosen it because he couldn’t trust himself to remember to water a real one. Plenty of plants had died in the past to prove this hunch. 

What he needed was someone to add some life to his surroundings. Someone efficient at whatever task you set them. More to the point, someone who was capable of finding people it had taken him ages to get remotely near to.

In short, he had decided he needed Donna to work with him. Surely her temporary contract with Daniel must be up soon? It would be logical to sweep in and offer her a new placement, with him, investigating missing or errant people. Should be a piece of cake for her, with her skills. 

But how to approach her without seeming creepy? It was tricky. Especially when you took into consideration how he’d handled asking her about Lance in the first place. 

_You managed to ask her out for the day_ , his brain reminded him. 

It had gone like a breeze. With lots of laughs along the way. _And a fiancée_ , his evil side pointed out. A problem he still hadn’t sufficiently dealt with. 

Oh well, that could all wait, he decided as he stared out at the grey London day outside the window. That was tomorrow’s problem to solve. For now, he would pop down to the restaurant across the road and grab a takeaway for his evening meal. Then head for home. Alone. 

Yes. He really needed to do something about that too. Another thing to add to the list. Once he’d resisted phoning up the agency or Donna herself. It had been a day or so of forcing his hand away from dialling her number. 

_‘Don’t look too keen_ ’ buzzed around his head. Why did he listen to himself? If he’d got his finger out, he could have been seeing her face to face by now, or at least have actually spoken to her. The truth was, he wanted to see her again, almost yearned to do so, so why was he denying himself the experience?

_She might reject you_ , was the answer. Yeah? Well, so what? He could cope with that. She’d offered friendship with no conditions. Wasn’t that worth fighting for? Definitely, he told himself as he got up to leave. No biggie. Perfectly attainable. Just go out there and phone her. Later. You know, after he’d eaten and gained some courage, Dutch or otherwise. 

Now in a determined mood, he crossed the road.


	10. Chapter 10

Rightio, first part of the plan accomplished, Donna thought as she left the craft shop she had chosen as her destination, clutching her precious alibi… Oops! I mean win. It was a bag containing a present for her mother.

She was in the correct vicinity, excuse established, and now she had to find John. Turning her head, she muttered, “Where are you?”

Stepping onto the pavement, not 3 metres away, was her prey, the man himself.

“Donna!” he exclaimed in glee.

“John!” she squealed.

This was, in part, due to her surprise, that he raced to lift her up into his embrace. No bloke had ever bothered to do that to her before, so as she slid back down his body, she offered him a friendly peck on the lips. However, his hands stayed firmly on her backside as he swooped in to return her gesture with a full on, eager kiss. 

For the briefest second, she might have kissed him back, but she’d fight you in court if you ever dared declared it. 

“You kissed me,” she accused, pushing him away. 

“No, you kissed me,” he countered. 

“Mine was just a little ‘hello’ type of kiss. Yours was a snog.”

“Oh well. Buy one get one free,” he joked. 

“You are bonkers,” she laughed. “Anyone could have seen us.”

He gave a fake gasp, clutched a hand over his heart, and then disarmingly grinned at her. “It’s a good job I’m used to talking my clothes off in public otherwise I might have cared.”

“If your latest crush had seen us, you would,” she remarked. “And don’t give me all that tosh about not having anyone in mind, again, because I won’t believe you.” 

“Okay,” he drawled, thinking as he gazed intently at her face. “What if I said the person was you?”

“Ha ha. Very funny,” she snapped. “There’s no need to take the piss out of me. I only had your best interests in mind.”

“No chance of the offer of a shag then?” he risked teasing. 

His answer was a thump on the arm. “No! Cheeky sod. This isn’t that type of friendship.”

Having not learned his lesson, he murmured, “Shame.” And wasn’t shocked when he gained another thump. “Careful! Bruises cost me money. Don’t damage the goods.”

“Yeah yeah,” she dismissed his concerns. “Makeup will cover them, if need be. As if you need me to entertain you like that anyway when there are plenty of fawning groupies to willingly fall into your bed.”

“What groupies?”

“Like that woman at the wedding thing,” she impatiently reminded him. “She was practically drooling over you.”

“I suppose so,” he agreed with a nod of his head. “What can I get you while I look for a groupie like Linda?”

“I’ll have a coffee please.” 

Sipping her Starbucks coffee, Donna mischievously asked him, “Has it made any difference, us being engaged?”

“I’ve had some weird looks from the other models,” John admitted.

“How can you tell?”

He frowned prettily. “What do you mean?”

She waved a hand in front of her face. “With all the Botox.”

“Oh. I see what you mean. Obviously, they can’t do anything except the set jaw thing,” he began, “but it’s in their eyes. A question is hanging there.”

“They can’t believe you’d choose to marry someone?” she pondered. 

“I’m sure Gabe is wondering how I could not want him instead,” he laughed. “Not sure about Tim.”

It gave her the chance to ask the question that had been present in her mind. “Have you ever fancied them?”

“No,” he grunted into his coffee mug. “They wish, but they aren’t my type.”

“Which begs the question…”

“What’s my type?” he asked for her. “Not them.”

“Is anyone?”

“Don’t mock,” he chided. “I’ve had my fair share of fumbles, you now, during my teens, but no one has ever caught my attention enough.”

“Wow. I’m sitting with a princess from a fairy story,” she teased. 

“It was the crown, wasn’t it, that gave me away,” he joked. “How come you’re here, in this part of town?”

“I came to get this,” she claimed, and used her preconceived alibi, holding up the bag from the craft shop she had visited. “It’s for my mum.”

“Oh. I was rather hoping you’d come to see me,” he mused. 

“Pft! As if I would,” she denied. “Anyway, am I stopping you doing anything?”

 _Seducing you_ , he silently noted. “Not really. I was on my way to get something to eat for dinner tonight.” He paused before offering, “How about you join me? What do you say?”

 _Yes, oh yes_ , her inner voice crowed. “Alright,” she nonchalantly agreed. “Just let me warn Mum I won’t be home to eat first, then I’m all yours. What were you thinking of getting?” 

Waggling his eyebrows, he playfully asked, “Am I allowed to surprise you?”

“No.”

He laughed. “Then I’ll let you choose.”

“Are we eating normal people portions, or sharing a meal for one?” she wondered.

“Well,” he drawled. “Alright, you got me. I usually have half one night and the rest another.”

“Not with me you ain’t,” she determined, wrapping her hand around his forearm. “Just for tonight, you can live a little.”

 _Yes please_ , was his instant thought. 

“When you said you didn’t live far and we could walk it, I didn’t think you’d literally mean around the corner,” she commented as they entered his luxurious home set in a recently built block of flats. “This place is amazing!”

“Thank you.”

“No, I’m not just saying that to be polite,” she insisted, casting her gaze around the modern studio apartment full of tasteful items and furnished with varying cream-coloured textures. “Bloody hell! This must have cost you a bob or two.”

“It’s an investment,” he said to wave off the compliment. “Do you really like it?”

“‘Like it’ doesn’t begin to describe how I feel,” she gushed as she continued to reverently touch various surfaces. “If you ever want a lodger, let me know, and I’d be round with my things in the blink of an eye.”

Interesting, he thought as he placed their bag of goodies on his kitchen worktop and began to extract items. “I’ll remember that. Now, are you going to actually eat this stuff you talked me into buying, or are you going to continue adoring my home?”

“Can’t I do both?”

“Not until you’ve washed your hands.”

“Moan, moan,” she teased. “Tell me where your bathroom is, and I’ll go do that.”

“Third door on the…,” he started to inform her. But he knew the instant she found it because she squealed with delight again. 

“Your bathroom is gorgeous! I definitely want to live in here,” she exclaimed from afar. 

“Might be able to arrange that,” he said to himself. “I’d expect to at least share it half the time,” he called out. 

She reappeared in the doorway to remark, “A woman and her bathroom have a very special relationship.” 

“Nice to know,” he huffed. “Come on, grab your plate and we can eat.”

“Where are we eating?”

“I thought out here might be nice,” he suggested, and pushed open a door that led to a large balcony.

“Oh wow!” she gasped, taking in the London scenery that had opened up before her. “This is brilliant! I bloody love you!”

His eyes went wide as he tried to gracefully lay his plate onto the patio table he kept on the balcony. “Pardon!”

“In a totally platonic, good friends sort of way,” she quickly stressed.

“Obviously,” he agreed. “Sit yourself down, and you can tell me all about how much you love me again.”

Her good-natured laughter filled his heart with glee as they sat and took in the evening view before them.

She couldn’t help stealing glances at him as they ate their meal and occasionally teased him whenever he took a bite of anything that wasn’t salad. “I’m leading you astray again with all these calories,” she remarked. “Nothing but a bad influence me, as usual.”

“Then it is a good job I’ve been blessed with a fast metabolism,” he countered. “Try all you want. I still won’t put much weight on.”

“If that’s the case, why all the rabbit food?” she wondered. “Shouldn’t you be tucking into whatever takes your fancy?”

His mouth opened as he fought the compulsion to bemoan the fact he couldn’t have everything he wanted. “Habit,” he settled on in the end. “You get used to the others eating this sort of thing, and you just join in.” 

The grin she shot him went straight to his heart. “In that case, the next time we eat together, I insist you order a large portion of pie and chips.” She nodded in agreement with herself.

“Donna!” he gasped in horror. “I can’t do that! Can I?”

“If you want to, you can. Especially if you retire from modelling,” she confirmed. “And if you want to use me as your official bad influence and future ex-fiancée, by all means do. I won’t be around to see your friends’ disgust.”

The thought of her not being around much longer was more horrific than a plateful of over-caloried food. It gave him the courage to say something meaningful. “About that… Now that I’ve got you here, there’s something I want to ask you,” he cautiously began his proposal.

“Oh?” She was intrigued to hear what he’d say.

“I think it’s time to expand the detective agency to include someone else. I’d like it to be you,” he rapidly stated, and turned to stare hopefully at her. “Will you investigate with me?” 

“Partners in crime?” she joked. “Yes. I’d love to.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** sorry for the update delay but a family bereavement meant that I had to completely rewrite this chapter as it went extremely dark (perhaps I'll post it as an alternative ending later on).

“A bit quick,” John noted as Donna’s words rang in his head and threatened to take up residence in his heart. “Don’t you want to know more about the position?”

“To be honest, I’m expecting to be paid similar if not better wages,” she remarked, “with lots of perks.”

His wine glass stopped midway to his mouth and he suspiciously asked, “What sort of perks?”

“Nothing like that, you berk.” She then thumbed towards the interior of his flat. “I mean full usage of that bathroom whenever I want, for a start.”

“Different,” he murmured with a chuckle. “It can be arranged. Of course, your extensive secretarial skill set is what I really want, and it would mean ditching the agency temp work,” he pointed out. “I’d expect total dedication from you.”

“Oh no, however will I cope,” she deadpanned. 

_The true question was: ‘however will I cope being with you?’_ he thought. “Then let’s drink to new enterprises,” he suggested, raising his glass.

As she touched glasses with him, she thought to ask, “There is one little detail we need to establish.”

“Oh?”

“When do I start?”

“Hmm. As soon as you finish with Daniel.” He smiled mischievously at her and took a sip. “How about starting with a little bit tonight? Do a spot of looking around while the time is ripe.”

She sat back and crossed her legs as she thought. “Yeah. Why not. How late are we likely to be?”

“If it gets too late, I suppose you could crash here,” he was shocked to hear himself offer. Blame it on the distraction of her long legs appearing in his peripheral vision. 

“Not sure that’d be practical,” she reasoned. “I don’t have clean underwear, for a start.”

“But I do,” he countered. “I have a spare toothbrush and I’m sure a fresh pair of my pants would fit you.”

Her eyes narrowed as she asked, “And where would I sleep?”

“In the spare bedroom,” he quickly assured her. “Unless you planned to sleep elsewhere?”

“You wish!” she retorted. “A spare bed would be fine, should I need it. Are you worried about me being seen leaving your flat in the morning?”

The question gave him the chance to lean forward and saucily point out, “We’re pretending to be engaged, remember. It’d all seem perfectly normal.”

“I suppose so,” she agreed. “Then let’s get on with it.” When his eyebrows rose into his hairline, she added, “The investigation. Don’t make out you didn’t know what I meant. Pft! You tart.”

Instead of retorting, he answered by saying, “I’ll get my keys.”

On the one hand, Donna was pleased they weren’t travelling on his motorbike because she was wearing a skirt. On the other hand, she had expected him to drive something a lot fancier than the rust heap he’d led her to.

Glancing out of the car window at the dark scenery passing by, she couldn't resist asking, “Is this really your car or are you just driving it for a bet?”

“It’s my car, I assure you,” he confirmed. “What makes you ask?”

“Well, it isn’t very _you_ , is it,” she argued. “I mean, it is not brand new or flashy in any way. I’d expected an Aston Martin or a Jag, not an old Ford. My dad used to refer to these as Dagenham dustbins. It’s just ancient, common and well… _ordinary_.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “That is rather the point of having this car. It blends in. Which is very useful when you’re trying not to be noticed.” 

She studied him. “A bit of a dilemma for you then, not being different. Do you have a disguise too?”

With a backwards nod of his head towards the seats behind them, he said, “A cap or hat tends to work. As well as this car, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she agreed, looking at the knitted hat lying on the back seat. “Will I get a walkie talkie later on?”

Surprised, he questioned, “Do you want one? Why?”

She shrugged. “They always have them in heist dramas. Could be useful.”

Resisting a laugh, he suggested, “Or we could just use our mobile phones.”

“Oh yeah,” she realised, and suddenly felt daft. “Mobile coverage isn’t normally a problem in London. Might be elsewhere, like say north Norfolk.”

“Luckily for us, I’m planning to stay right here,” he stated as the car turned into the road they wanted. “Got a pressing need to go to Norfolk?” he teased. 

“I’ll let you know as soon as it crops up.” She then pointed out the window. “Racnosa should be up here on the left.” 

He slowed the car down and immediately dimmed the lights. The showroom windows of Racnosa were brightly illuminated and a recognisable figure could be seen standing at a counter, slumped over in boredom. “Looks like someone is working late. Shall we go prod him?”

They both shared a mischievous grin. 

“Race you.” 

Lance immediately looked up as soon as the door to Racnosa opened. “Good evening,” he began and was startled when he saw Donna step in. “Hello again!”

“Hello. We saw you were open and called in on the off chance,” she lied. 

“You caught me in time. I’ll be closing in about fifteen minutes,” Lance supplied. “How can I help you?”

“We’re here to pick up some information but we can easily come back another time,” John stated. “Is there a brochure, Donna?” 

A stunned Lance watched Donna pick up a couple of glossy brochures from the display. “Help yourself,” he encouraged her, and turned to try and appear nonchalant to John. “Have you booked your wedding yet? I see you still haven’t got the engagement ring.”

John leaned against the counter as though he had all the time in the world. “We expect to collect the ring tomorrow. It’s been especially designed for us by a friend. These jewellery artists certainly take their time. As for the wedding date, we’re seeing the availability of various places first before deciding, but we don’t want to wait any longer than necessary. You know how it is.”

“What’s that you’re saying about me?” Donna pretended to grumble as she approached him; and let him wrap his arms around her body to draw her close. 

“Only that I don’t want you to get away from me,” John crooned, placing a gooey kiss on her jawline. “Have you picked up all the information you needed?”

“Almost,” she breathily answered, bringing her lips close to his. She had to say, John was excellent at pretending he was madly in love. Almost BAFTA worthy acting. “No doubt there’s an email address on the literature.”

Given his cue to talk, Lance burst out with, “It’s there on the back page. Just send me any questions you want to ask.”

Still keeping his gaze on Donna, John calmly responded, “Then we’ll let you get on with your evening and indulge ourselves elsewhere.”

Donna forced a giggle. “Ooh, you are awful,” she schmoozed.

“I intend to be very good for you,” he countered in equal tones. “Good night, Lance,” he said without looking in the man’s direction.

“Bye,” Donna added, keeping her eyes on John.

“Yeah, bye,” Lance replied, finding himself getting angrier and angrier with the couple. He vented his emotions by stomping over to the door and locking it shut behind them. 

Outside, Donna clung onto John’s arm with glee as they walked back to his car. “That was fun!” she enthused once they were sat inside. “Can we do it again?”

Starting the engine, he beamed a smile. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”


	12. Chapter 12

Donna had expected him to drive off to another part of London. What she got was him turning the car around and then parking close to the showroom, on the other side of the street. “What happens now?” she wondered. “Do we wait a while and break in? Go hack into the computer or something?”

“That’s one way to get a criminal record,” John noted. “Normally, I’d suggest we come back another time and ask around, since someone has bound to notice something strange. Like no cars, no clients, no customer reviews, or something like that. But I’m not going to do that. Yet.”

“Then what are we going to do?” she demanded to know. 

He leaned close to reveal, “While we’re here, we need to establish where Lance is living, for his brother’ sake. You watch the front and I’ll nip round the back. Follow him, if you can, and find out where he lives. I’ll catch up with you later, if need be.” 

“I can do that,” she confidently assured him. “But what about the insurance? I’m not a named driver on your car insurance.”

“Donna,” he sighed, “you have my permission to drive this car, so you are covered.”

“For only fire and theft though,” she reasoned. 

“That’ll be enough for our purposes. Look, you can organise all that later,” he grumbled, keen to get out of the car. “Just keep an eye on him.”

“Right you are,” she cheerily responded, and kept her eyes firmly on the shop door to watch where Lance went once his day was done.

John was confident Donna could cope with keeping a careful distance from Lance, but his hunch was the man would leave via the rear of the showroom. 

From his jacket pocket he brought out a black knitted ski mask, pulled it over his face and headed into the alleyway that backed on to the set of shops where the showroom was. Moments later, Lance appeared from the backdoor to the showroom. 

Having locked it, he turned to run up the external stone staircase that led to the dwellings above the shops. Several flats or maisonettes, by the look of it, John calculated. He waited in the shadows until Lance had entered a residence before following, creeping up the same staircase. 

It soon brought him to the same entrance, so he mentally noted the door number where Lance now lived and cast his gaze about to check whether he had been observed or not. The coast was clear, so he leaned out from the top step to peer in through the window. Luckily, there was a gap in the curtains that allowed him to see Lance within, and the person inside who greeted him. But what he heard shocked him. 

“Hello Lance. You’re late,” an authoritative female tone greeted him.

“Hello. Sorry Mistress,” Lance docilely answered them. “There were last minute customers to deal with. Now that I’m here, how can I serve you?” 

“You know what to do,” the cool voice declared. 

“Right away, Mistress,” Lance accepted, and slunk out of sight. 

Outside the window, John’s thoughts raced through his mind. _Oh. That explained a lot_. Lance was enjoying a relationship with a dominatrix. No wonder he was reluctant to tell his strictly religious family where he was or what he was doing. Perhaps he was not allowed to contact his family without express permission? Could be. 

Shop doorways have a very limited appeal; especially when the shop itself is shut, so Donna was beginning to feel bored. _Keep looking_ , she told herself. _You never know when Lance might appear_. But he kept on not appearing. Bugger! 

She was more than relieved when John eventually appeared and signalled his return to the car. “Well?” she immediately asked as he placed himself on the driver’s seat.

“I erm…,” he cagily answered. “I know exactly where he lives.”

“And?” she encouraged him to continue. “What does he do there?”

Waiting until they were pulling away in the car, he replied, “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

“If you don’t, you’ll be eating hospital food through a straw tomorrow,” she threatened. 

“Alright, I’ll tell you,” he huffed as he drove out of the road. “Did he tend to like you dominating him when you were together?”

“Not particularly.” She shrugged. “Just the normal arrogant bloke stuff.”

“Then that explains what was missing from your relationship. He’s into being dominated, in a big way. In fact, he’s a personal slave and apparently loving it, from what I could see.” 

She gulped in surprise. “So, he liked my bossiness? Weird. I much prefer more of an equal relationship, so it’d never have lasted.”

“According to the electoral roll, the name of the woman he lives with is the same as the one featured on the brochures we picked up from Racnosa. I’d guess that he was told to give up his previous job and work for her. Seems happy about it though.”

“He can keep it,” she said. “Oh well, it takes all sorts to make a world. Just didn’t have him pegged as being like that.”

John gave a warning cough. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have used the word ‘pegged’.”

“Why?” she inevitably asked and then immediately gasped in realisation. “You think Lance likes…?” She blew out her cheeks in surprise. “Blimey.”

“And on that note, I think we’ll change the subject before we get home,” he suggested. “I have a report to write up, and I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink.”

No sooner had they stepped into John’s kitchen when his phone rang. “Hello, Will,” he greeted his friend. “It’s a bit late for you. Normally you’re trying to wake me up.”

“I didn’t see you online earlier, so I assume you’ve been out on a job,” Will replied. “Anyway, I thought you’d want to know that you are back on Twitter.”

“On Twitter? Doing what?” John wondered. He gestured at Donna to look at her phone.

“Kissing another poor woman again,” Will teased. “Who is she?”

“We’re on Twitter again,” John mouthed at Donna being returning his attention to Will. “It’s the same woman as before.”

“Found it!” Donna cried out as the image appeared.

“Is that her? Is she there?” Will wanted to know; and whooped with joy.

“Yes, she’s here,” John reluctantly confirmed. 

“Hang on. I have to see her. I’m ringing off and will video call you,” Will decided. 

Seconds later a familiar musical blooping sound could be heard, and John swiped his finger to answer the call. “Hello again, Will.”

Will waved his hand angrily about. “I don’t want to see your ugly mug. Where is she? Show me her.”

Wondering why he was obliging; John turned his phone for Will to see.

“Hello!” Donna cheerily waved at Will. “I’m Donna, since he didn’t say. Official visiting fiancée type figure. The victim in the photos.”

“You don’t look particularly upset about it,” Will laughed. “Hello Donna. What do you think of our John, accosting you with kisses in public?”

“I’m getting used to it,” she replied, causing him to laugh again. “These Twitter pics are a bit suggestive, aren’t they? We only said hello to each other.”

“Did you?” Will frowned. He didn’t believe that for a second, but he wanted to hear all about it. “John never says hello to me like that.”

The man himself appeared in shot close to Donna to reply. “Play your cards right next time and we’ll see,” he joked. “We have paperwork to get done so we’ll say good night to you.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Will continued to tease his friend.

Not wanting to endure anymore, John and Donna called out, “Bye Will!” and ended the call. 

_She’s going to berate me for that_ , John thought, and cringed, waiting for the accusations to start, but she did something else entirely.

“You know,” she idly pondered, tapping her fingernail on the image of a loving couple on her phone, “if we’re going to carry on using this pretend engagement to solve cases, I’d better nip down to Argos tomorrow lunchtime and get a cheapo ring to wear.”

“Yeah, you could,” he hoarsely agreed. “Keep the receipt for expenses. Hmm. Yes, that could work.”

“What’s going on in that big ol’ brain of yours?” she asked as various emotions flitted across his face. “Should I be worried?”

Deliberately staying close, he smiled warmly. “You finish at Daniel’s this Friday, don’t you?” he considered. “I was going to ask you to start on the office stuff next week but why don’t you join me up in Scotland on the photoshoot instead? We’re using Eilean Donan Castle as the location.” _You can help keep me warm_ , he didn’t add on.

Tempted as she was, it brought up more than one question. Like: _would they even accept me?_ “Wouldn’t it be awkward? I mean, getting a room and that. They won’t be expecting me.”

“We can share.” He then added, “Don’t look so shocked. They all think we’re engaged, so you can come as my fiancée or assistant.”

Shaking her head, she murmured, “Nah!” When he looked crestfallen, she continued, “I like the sound of partner more.”

“Then partner it is!” he cried, overjoyed with the way this new relationship was going. “Let’s have something to celebrate with.”

**The End.... sort of**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** okay, this tale feels unfinished, and I’m sorely tempted to write a sequel sometime in the future.


End file.
